Lost in Love
by Little Bird and Wind Waker
Summary: Reader x Peter Pan. You lead a lonely life in Victorian London. You know too many people who would love to vacate your spot at the orphanage, and sometimes, you almost wish they would. But that all changes when the Shadow comes and drops you straight into Neverland, where Peter Pan and the Lost Boys await. Will they accept you as a Lost Girl, and will Pan return your affection? -LB
1. Chapter 1: Capture

**I probably should have put this in the summary, but I ran out of room (nervous giggle). So here are two truths about this particular fic. 1. It's by Little Bird, of you didn't get the "LB" I put at the end of the summary. 2. The reader here is mostly a wimp, because I am a wimp and I'm writing my own fantasy to share. I'm not saying every reader is quite like me, but I am saying every reader is not as confident as their story selves. I'm gettin' kinda tired of reading the "confidence fics" so I broke the rule and decided to do my own thing. Have fun! Stay beautiful!**

* * *

It was nighttime at the orphanage. You wept bitterly on your hard bed, shuddering as you again reviewed the events of your day. Yet again had you been bullied by the other kids in the place. At sixteen, you were still mistreated by both those older and younger than you. The matron had beaten you for the millionth time to punish you for a crime you never committed. A fourteen year old boy had left you bruised and stiff, not for the first time.

Your life was horrible.

And so it was that you were lonely, and the only thing you were certain of was Peter Pan, from your very favorite story book. He visited you sometimes in the night, in your dreams. You danced around the fire with the Lost Boys, who never switched you. They didn't mind your meekness or your shyness or your overall, all around awkwardness. When you tripped, they helped you up with a friendly smile.

Sadly, those nights never lasted long, or at least never enough to sustain you. No, after what seemed like five minutes, you were woken again to start a new day with the same routine of pain and lonesomeness.

But it stopped when the Shadow came for you. It dragged you off with stormy fingers, but you never had any sort of inclination that it was Peter Pan's doing. You were frightened, most definitely, but you didn't make one sound. You had decided that there was no possible way that any place where it was taking you could be worse than the orphanage.

When it dropped you finally on an island, you were at the least, very surprised. It was beautiful here. Fog blanketed the lush growth of a forest just a wee bit farther inland. It looked so inviting. You began to take slow steps toward as it beckoned. When you finally entered through the trees, you were extremely surprised to be caught up in someone's arms, and then bound and gagged. A hand waved something under your nose; you stupidly breathed it in. You collapsed and the last thing you caught a glimpse of was the Peter Pan from your dreams.

* * *

Your eyelids fluttered open to see two young boys, who looked to be about seven or eight. They had grimy hands clasping on to the wooden bars of something. Your head hurt too much to think of what it was called. Oh, a cage! That was it!

Wait, a cage?! The trouble you go yourself into... The probability of it all was nigh on impossible. But that was it.

Even though it made your headache worse, you thought about your current situation. After a total of two seconds, in which you sat up from your fetal position, you had deduced that you had been captured by a Lost Boy, under the orders of that smirking Peter Pan.

Who was now walking towards your prison. You felt dread (and oddly enough, a dark attraction) pool into your stomach, where it stirred around the contents until you felt like you were going to vomit.

Pan shooed away the two boys with gentle, and yet rough, pats on their backs. "Hello y/n!" he said brightly, smiling brightly. "Happy to see that you've come to visit."

Feeling, for whatever reason, much more courage than you had ever possessed before, you spoke up immediately to him. "Umm..." You began shyly, quietly. "Uh, how do you know my name? W-why am I in a cage? And where and why was I brought here?"

Your confidence faltered from the start, and as you continued to speak your voice lost its volume. Pan just licked his lips and smiled. Running a hand through his hair (which gave you an extremely strong urge to reach out through the wooden bars and do the same), he chuckled a bit as well.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. You're just so full of questions. And very nervous. Why are you so nervous?"

In another burst of bravery, you immediately snapped back. "Answer my questions first." With what seemed to be his trademark, he smirked. "Ooh, yes very nervous. And touchy. But because I am so benevolent, I will answer your obvious questions.

"1. I know your name because I have visited you countless times in your dream, after you responded to my pipes. Consider yourself special; you're the only girl that's ever done that. 2. You're in a cage because the Boys and I don't want you to escape. More on that later. 3. You're in Neverland, if you weren't so clever as to come to that conclusion. And you're here because I called you, and so the Shadow brought you. Good enough for you?"

You looked down as he held your gaze, and finally realized you were only wearing your too small, gauzy nightgown. Much too skimpy for a girl in the woods in a fairy tale land with many, many, many boys. Especially not when your (and probably their) hormones were raging. You just couldn't stop thinking about Pan's hair.

You made a move to cover your chest a little more, drawing your arms and knees up to hide. He noticed, of course, giving a small laugh. "Conservative, are we?" Now feeling snappy, you bit back immediately, "Do you even realize my current situation?"

With another laugh, he just walked back to the center of camp.

You hoped (and hoped against it) that he would never come back.


	2. Chapter 2: Bath

You were so thirsty. Your lips were dry, your tongue was dry. How you longed for just a sip of water. How parched your throat was, deprived of moisture. Since it didn't seem that you'd be able to escape and find any water, it seemed you would just have to do the next best thing. Sleep.

* * *

It was the next night when you woke up again. You could barely move. You were so sore from your most recent beating back in London. Your throat felt rough and scratchy. Your stomach growled, but you weren't concerned about food, at least not until you smelled roasted meat from the camp. That's when it got torturous. But since you couldn't escape, you did the next best thing. Sleep.

* * *

It was morning when you woke for the third time. That made three entire days in Neverland. You felt like you were dying. When a boy passed by your cage, you made a small noise (the best you could do) and prayed that he would hear you.

You were fortunate. He had sharp hearing, although you didn't like the look of him at all. His blond hair was long and ragged, and scars riddled his face. But you were too thirsty to really care. Mid-stride, he turned around to face you.

"Water," you managed.

"Well, damn, boys, she's human after all!" he yelled out to the largely awake group.

A lot of laughter.

"Tom, grab a canteen for her!"

"Alright, Felix!"

When Tom, who you recognized as one of the boys staring at you when you first woke up, shoved the canteen through the bars of the cage, you scrambled to get a hold of the bottle.

Hands shaking, you unscrewed the cap and took a long, long drink. You finished in five seconds.

"Tom, go grab another."

He rushed to grab one more.

You swallowed that was in ten seconds. Slowly, your thirst began to disappear, but when Tom brought you a third container, you really began to think. You weren't quite what a person would call a "clean freak" but you didn't enjoy going three days while partially sitting in your own waste as you were sleeping (you had apparently released yourself while while you were unconscious).

So, you took the canteen and all the Boys gathered around once more to see how fast it would take you to down this one. Instead, you poured a little water onto your hand and splashed it on your face. You rubbed at the dirt that had accumulated there in your three days in Neverland, noting with distaste the your nightgown was ruined.

The Boys were shocked and disgusted by this particular display of behavior.

Tom spoke up first. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked in a funny little voice. It was easy to talk to him. You leaned nearer to the bars to look him in the eye. He seemed frightened. You wanted to stretch your legs.

"I'm washing myself."

It was then that Tom ran off to get Peter as the rest of his companions stared at you in a shocked silence. You heard the little boy's cries, "Peter, Peter, the girl likes to be clean! Peter, why does she want to be clean?"

And naturally, the apparently named Felix sauntered straight up to you and asked the same question. "Yeah, why do you like to be clean?"

Peter had pushed his way through the crowd to hear your answer. That made you very nervous.

After a pause you finally answered. "Because I feel nice, and maybe- well, maybe a little bit pretty."

The Boys guffawed, but to your surprise, Peter did not. "Well, men!" he said. "Don't you all like to look tough?" A general head nodding. "It's like that, but the girls feel a need to look pretty."

He faced you now. "Would you like to have a place to actually wash?"

Tears gathered in your eyes, for reasons you were not aware, and in a shaky voice you replied with, "Yes."

Tom reached for your hand through the thick sticks of your cage and took it. "Don't cry," he told you in his small voice. You nodded and tried to smile for the child, but the tears fell out anyway. Now the Lost Boys and Pan probably thought you cowardly.

It was then that Tom noticed something else. "Peter, she's bleeding!" Wiping away the few tears that had managed to slip out and crawl down your face, you glanced at your arms and legs, finally catching sight of the slightly fresh stains.

"Shite," you groaned, more tears coming to your eyes. Of course you had started your period. With your horrible, horrible luck, anything was possible. You made a move to tug down your nightgown, begging the boys to "Go away! Please!" You could feel every ounce of blood (except for the stuff coming out of you) rush to your cheeks. You thought the cramps were from hunger. You though the emotion was from your situation. But, no, no, no, of course not!

But none of the boys were laughing. Felix looked to Peter, asking where you were bleeding anyways. They didn't even know! But Peter chuckled a bit, and told him that he would explain it all later.

Then he produced a key from heaven knows where, unlocking your prison and offering his hand through the open door.

You hesitated.

"I don't bite," he reassured you.

With a quick glance at his smirking face, you took his hand as he pulled you out of the cage. Landing hard on your feet, which hadn't been used for a while, you stumbled straight into Peter's arms. Blushing heavily, you quickly pulled away and attempted to right yourself on shaking legs.

He shrugged and smiled, beckoning you to his side. You prayed you weren't dripping, but didn't have the gut to look back and find out. Taking you by the hand, he led you straight into camp. He bade you to stay outside while he slipped into a tent, and came out with a bundle of clothes.

Then after walking for about fifteen minutes, with no conversation to be had, you heard the sweet sound of water. You suppressed the urge to jump straight in, but Peter offered (quite sweetly) that you go ahead and start washing yourself.

You nodded. And waited. He stared at you. And waited.

After thirty seconds of this watching and waiting, you gathered the nerve to go ahead and speak up.

"Oh, um, aren't you going to go away?"

He laughed. "Of course not! You'd run away!" He stopped your protests, continuing to speak. "The Boys and I could catch you of course, but I don't quite feel like doing so."

You frowned. "Then could you please turn around and swear not to look?"

With a dramatic sigh and, unsurprisingly, a smirk, he nodded and turned around. You sighed quietly in relief, quickly stripping, your eyes on him the entire time, and running into the refreshing water. Having dragged your ruined nightgown with you, you tore off a clean(ish) piece and soaked it, and then started scrubbing your entire body.

Peter felt the need to talk during this time. "I suppose you would like to know why you're here." You grunted yes. "Here's the story then. And just know that you are very, very lucky. I never tell a story straight, and here I am breaking the rule for you.

"Anyway, it starts like this. I visit all the lonely boys in their dreams, you know, to get them to want to come with me, where they would have family. I play my pipes to entice them, and enticed they are. You have somehow listened in to my music.

"You are the loneliest person in the world. Nobody has ever loved you. Not once have you been shown a real kindness, and not just an obligation. You were so desperate, y/n, for a real family, that I finally sent for you. Which makes you a rarity. Which makes me want to keep you."

You were silent throughout his short speech. Your emotions were boiling over. Peter knew you too well for a person you had just met in the flesh. But when he said that he wanted to keep you, something warm grew inside you. Even though it appeared to be for all the wrong reasons, he wanted you.

"Besides," he said, "I've never seen anything so pretty."

You were well aware of your nakedness at that point. "Thank you," you told him shyly, and requested that the clothes be tossed over. They fell onto the bank and you waded over to reach them. Inside the bundle, you found (thank God) a coarse pair of boy's underwear, some thick brown leggings, a dark shirt, and a hare skin vest. Also placed next to it were a pair of black boots made of some hide you weren't sure of.

Ripping a piece off of your nightgown again, you placed the scrap in the crotch of your undergarment and slipped it on, praying that it would stay and suffice as a napkin. Then you pulled on the leggings, which were surprisingly comfortable. Then you tore a last piece of your nightgown to wrap around your breasts.

And of course you couldn't tie it. No matter how much you struggled, you couldn't bend your arms around to knot the fabric. Knowing what was coming next, your cheeks set themselves on fire as you sucked in a breath.

"Peter."

"Hmmm?"

"I need your help."

"With what?"

"I need you to tie something."

He stood up from his sitting position on the ground and ambled over as you struggled to keep your breasts covered. Sensing the issue, he stood at your back and reached to the front of you to snatch the fabric away from your fingertips. Slowly, he took your arms away from your chest and wrapped the nightgown piece around you, tightly knotting it and stepping away.

Your heart pounded wildly as you blushed and your mind reeled. Never had a man been that intimate with you. As fast as you could, you pulled the shirt over your head and the vest over that. You grabbed the boots and pulled them on too, turning around to a certain Peter standing about four inches behind you. He grabbed your chin between his forefinger and thumb, caressing your jaw with the other hand. Before you had a chance to react, he leaned down to kiss you softly, and then turned around to lead you back to camp.

You followed.

* * *

**Let's play "Count How Many Times the Narrator Says Chuckled or Smirked"!**


	3. Chapter 3: Lunch

You arrived back at camp and the only thought that occupied your mind was "at least my flow isn't very heavy." In all reality, you were attempting to distract yourself from thinking about The Kiss (your first). But with Pan in such close proximity, that was impossible.

Oh, how he and your empty, growling stomach tortured you.

Hearing that blasted noise come from yourself, you watched Peter turn round, smiling as usual. "Well, then! Looks like somebody's hungry."

Your cheeks flamed involuntary as you looked to the ground and tried to force your attraction back down to your bowels, where it belonged.

He slowed down his pace so that you were caught up with him and nudged you with his shoulder. "Guess we'll have to get you something to eat, then."

You nodded compliantly. Why wouldn't you want food anyway? You were starving. Your insides were gnawing away at themselves, causing you nausea and fatigue.

And so you followed Peter still for another five minutes until you came upon a lovely picnic. Spread out on a low, flat boulder was a loaf of bread and two bowls of meat stew. You had an extremely difficult time not running to boulder and devouring both servings.

Peter walked forward a few more steps, stopping at the boulder Ns looking back at you with a gleam in his eye. You took that as an abstract summons and almost ran to where he was standing.

"Won't you sit down?" he asked you, lowering himself in a peculiar sort of cross-legged position. You mirrored his movement as he scooted one of the earthenware bowls nearer to yourself. "Go ahead! Eat, for God's sake!"

So you set yourself upon that meat stew as if that was the last rabbit-and-water combination on earth. You ate half the loaf of bread ravenously, somehow managing to not inhale the entire thing.

If there was one thing about you, it seemed, it was your manners.

Peter took his meal more slowly than you had. It was a full four minutes until he had swallowed his last bite.

Standing up from his sitting position, he snatched up your hand to help you up as well. The momentum was a bit more than you expected, and you pitched forward, for he second time, into his arms.

Instead of pushing away, you stood there against his chest, completely frozen. You dimly heard him chuckle, and you suddenly felt his lips on the top of your hair, still damp from the river. He pulled away gently, still holding you by the hand. You trailed behind him as he began to walk again. "I think I might actually introduce you to the Lost Boys. What you do you think of that?"

"I think that would be nice," was your quiet response.

* * *

**Gosh, I feel bad. So sorry for the shortness and the time it took! But, still, hope you enjoyed it... I hope to start updating weekly, but ever since school started back up, it's been a bit more difficult. Still, I'll try my best! Also, there should be a lemon soon... (my first, so don't expect perfection)**


	4. Chapter 4: Treehouse

It took a very long time for you to meet all of the Lost Boys. You knew that there was Tom, Simon, Felix; the rest of the names blurred in your mind, but Pan assured you that you would learn them in time.

And you felt that you would as well. This was a perfect home, even if you felt uncomfortable with the people at the moment, and you knew that everything would turn out fine anyhow.

When the last boy shook your hand and introduced himself very politely as Arthur, to your embarrassment, your stomach released the most fearsome growl.

That was only to the boys' amusement, however, and Peter assured you that dinner was soon. They had food, it was just now a matter of cooking it.

"Perhaps you would like to help?" he asked you.

Your head nodded faintly, and he took you by the arm, guiding you over near the recently made fire. You saw that Arthur was already there, stirring seasoning into a giant pot.

"I have cooking duties here, so just follow my directions," he told you after Pan had explained your reasons for being there. Again you nodded shyly, and Arthur motioned you over to stir the bubbling contents of the pot.

It was a fast procedure for the food to cook; you could hardly believe it had taken so short a time. Peter sauntered over with a giant stack of wooden bowls in his arms, which he set down next to you.

"If you'll start filling these up and handing them out?"

With a quick "oh, yes" you grabbed the dish at the top of the stack and grabbed made to transfer the food over. After handing out that first bowl, it seemed that the stream of boys waiting to be fed never slowed.

You handed a bowl to Arthur, then to Peter, then filled another and held it out without looking in front of you. It took a while for you to realize that there was no one there and that that bowl was for yourself.

You awkwardly stood at the edge of a circle of logs, which served as crude benches. Peter noticed you, and, of course, beckoned you to come sit by him.

He and the Boys were in the middle of a conversation, but you didn't really care about what they had to say on the importance of silverware. You were much too hungry, and after you had finished your meal, much to tired to tune in.

You did try, however, even though the attempt was futile. You could not fight your fatigue; it was already over taking your body. It even caused you to drop off onto Peter's shoulder.

About ten minutes later, you woke up and realized where your head was laying. You sat up quickly, apologizing to the distracted teen who you had been using as your pillow.

"No, no, don't apologize, dear heart. That's a rule here," he told you rather absentmindedly, grasping at your hand and raising it to his lips while he listened to Felix's opinion on the other matter of comfort.

Your heart thudded in your chest, as, slowly, you eased yourself down onto his shoulder again. Your eyes fluttered wide open when he leaned his head on yours, your hand still at his mouth.

You didn't wake for a long, long while, and when you did, it was not the same place you had fallen asleep in. You felt that you were someplace high through the strange, almost becalming rocking of the structure. A tree house, you decided.

Sitting up and looking out a small window, with wooden boards splayed to either side of it, confirmed your theory. All of the sudden, you tasted the morning breath in the back of your throat, felt the oil in your hair, and the lessening amount of blood collected in your nether regions. You felt disgusting.

Snatching up a blanket from the floor, you walked to the wooden door, and cautiously pushed it open.

Looking down was a mistake. Twenty feet below you was the ground, and a rope ladder was your only way of getting down to a solid floor. Oh, well.

Throwing the coarse blanket over one shoulder, you bent down to grab the first slat of the the ladder and swung a leg down to rest on another one.

You repeated the movement, and scurried down as fast as you could. When your boots made contact with the leaf covered soil, relief washed through you.

Your next move was to make it back to the river. You remembered passing big boulders many times, and you spotted one way off to your right.

Facing that general direction, you walked for only a little while until you heard that happy gurgling of the water.

Stripping as you went, you laughed aloud when your feet splashed into the shallows, wading in farther to immerse yourself in the water. You cleaned yourself with your hands, and climbed back onto the pebbles that made up the shore.

Grabbing the blanket, you rubbed yourself down with it and pulled on your underwear, leggings, and boots. Then you moved onto... Oh, no! You had completely forgotten!

You couldn't tie the nightgown piece around your breasts.

"Need some help with that, love?"

You jumped in surprise, turning to meet Peter's handsome face as you covered your chest with your arms.

He removed them anyway, and he could now (if he cared to) see your breasts completely. Your cheeks were on fire; the tips of your ears were scarlet.

Just as he had the first time, he took the fabric from your very hands, and wrapped it around your chest to tie it off tightly. Not once did his gaze move from your face, although his hands brushed along your naked torso as he took them away.

Finally, he looked down to grab your shirt and vest, handing them to you.

"Well, love," he said, "it's time for us to leave."

You were confused. Leave? You didn't realize you had said that out loud until he answered your question.

"Dear heart, there's a price to pay to have family. It's time we go to the cave."

"What's the cave?" you asked him.

He hooked your arm in his, leading you toward a tree (where a pack was) and then guiding you north. "The cave is the place where every Lost Boy, or Lost Girl in your case, pays the price for immortality. If you don't pay it, you don't get to stay."

Your mood turned nervous in an instant. "What's the price? What do I have to pay?"

* * *

**God, I am so sorry about the lateness of this one. Really, I am. I've been so busy with school and stuff, it's just taken forever, so I do apologize for that hiatus. Thanks for keeping with the story, however, and don't forget to R&amp;R!**


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